


It's technically December in Norway

by Captain_Mercurian



Series: So what do I do with this? [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: (hopefully), (joke), Credence doesn't buy Newt's shit, M/M, The Niffler has finally been caught, The Niffler is not a cat, Warning: suicidal thoughts!, and not a duck either, but no worries, no one dies, poor baby is hurt, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8703955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Mercurian/pseuds/Captain_Mercurian
Summary: It took him a moment to realize that the gurgling, chuckling noise that echoed through the alleyway, was his. Credence couldn't even remember the last time, he had found something amusing, but this – this was ridiculous. “A duck,” he repeated, clearly not buying it in the least. “With fur.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long wait but hey - its over 3k! I hope you'll enjoy it!

In his dreams, the man didn't call for him anymore. He would see him but he would turn his back to Credence, not saying a word. Leave. He would leave, just walk away, further into the darkness. Credence was terrified at the thought that he might be left alone to wander in this horrible place, without a light to guide him out.  
“ _Please_ ,” he would scream, beg even, scalding tears running down his burning cheeks as he tried to run after him. “ _I'm sorry- Don't leave, Sir, done leave me here_...!”

 

The figure was barely a fleck on his vision by then as Credence was too slow, _too slow_ -

 

And then something light hit his shoulder. A paper. One of mother's leaflets to be exact.

Appearing out of thin air, more and more of them flew towards him, slowing him down and cutting his cheeks as he flailed his arms in a desperate attempt at keeping them away from his face, so he wouldn't lose sight of the man completely.

 

“ _ **PLEASE**_!” he screamed before he was buried by massive waves of leaflets, suffocating under their combined weight.

 

 

 

Credence woke up before mother rang the bell.

 

 

It didn't matter, though, since he wasn't allowed to have breakfast with them anyway. The day before mother had locked him up in the attic as a punishment for his 'rebellious act' at the New York National County Bank. About 14 hours had already passed by in which he sat in the empty room, hungry and thirsty, his hands a painful mess, just like his back. Mother wouldn't let him out, though. Not yet. The last time she had locked him up, he had spent almost three days in the attic and Modesty had brought him half a loaf of bread and a glass of water once. He hoped, she would do it again but he doubted it. Modesty had started to ignore him for some time now, just like Chastity.

 

Forcing himself to sit up, he rubbed his tear-swollen face with the uninjured back of his hands.

 

He couldn't stand it anymore. He just _couldn't_.

 

The presence of the darkness inside his head was more potent than ever and he could see his fingertips turning ashen as his blood boiled within his veins. How long was he supposed to endure the pain? How long was he supposed to let himself be whipped and beaten and locked up in an empty room? How long did he have to let himself be tortured by a woman that wasn't even his mother? He could leave, he supposed, but then again – Where could he possibly go?

 

He thought of the man with the blue coat and the suitcase. Thought of why, even though he didn't even know his name, he had become so important to him that he felt his heart shattering at the way he wouldn't even look at him after seeing the leaflet.

Maybe, he thought Credence was a freak, just like everyone else. Why else would he have reacted the way he did after seeing the leaflet? Why would he just bolt if not to escape the madman trying to recruit him as some sort of witch-hunter?

 

Credence hadn't even wanted to do that. It was too late, though. Even if he saw the man again, he was very likely to be ignored by him. He would avert his warm eyes from him, keep walking, acting as if their brief contact hadn't existed, as if he had never stumbled into Credence's life and, unfortunately, into his head.

Maybe even into his heart.

He didn't want to think about _that_.

 

What had he hoped for anyway? Had he hoped for a knight in shining armor to save him from being locked into an attic? For a warm bed, warm food and a hand to hold? Was he really naive enough to believe that the man would have cared enough to take him in?

  
_Yes_.

 

Credence hadn't realized but now he knew, acknowledged, that in a way, he had believed that this colorful, warm being could have come to help him, to _like_ him even.

 

How greedy he was and how stupid. Arrogant. Believing that a complete stranger could ever come to care about him. There was nothing in Credence worth to be saved, or cared about, or – God forbid - even _loved_. Mother was right. He deserved all this. The pain, the tears, the nightmares... A monster like him was meant to suffer.

Never would his life mean running, wearing colorful clothes, smiling and be smiled at. His life would never mean being with the embodiment of all that he had ever dreamed of.

 

The man who was everything Credence had ever truly wanted.

 

His skin prickled as it started to crack and dissolve into ashes. Sobbing, he wrapped his thin arms around himself, trying to keep himself from falling apart. His pain, his rage and his sorrow bundled up deep inside him and threatened to break out of his chest, more and more with every beat of his broken heart. The monster was about to take over but Credence held on to the last threads of his sanity, tried to think of little Modesty sleeping downstairs.

There was no way, he could ever bring himself to care about mother or Chastity but even if Modesty didn't like him anymore, he did remember a time in which she had held on to his hand when the streets were frozen and slippery and how she used to cry when he was beaten.

 

 _She doesn't care about you anymore_.

 

Shaking his head, he sobbed, burying his fingers into his hair, hard enough to pull at the inky strands.

 

 _No one cares about you_.

 

His sobs subsided and his trembling shoulders stilled as a thought wormed it's way inside his head.

Forcing himself to stand up, he ever so slowly put on his vest and his jacket, though, he didn't button either of it up, and made his way to the only window up here. A cool drought blew in as he opened it and leaned forward, staring down to the dark alleyway – If he jumped, he would probably die.

Credence didn't know if he even cared anymore.

All he knew was that, if he stayed, Modesty would be killed. He could feel the darkness thrumming in his veins, could feel the pain in the palms of his hands as he took a deep breath and clutched the top of the window frame. Staring at the curbstone underneath, he threw a trembling leg over the windowsill and forced himself to let the other follow.

 

When he sat, he let go of the window frame, leaving stains of blood where he had touched the dusty wood. His skin tingled but deep inside, he felt completely numb as he let his legs dangle in the air. The darkness in him thudded against his rib cage and he closed his eyes, thinking of Modesty and all the times he had longed for the relieve of death.

Touching the wall with the heels of shoes, which he hadn't even bothered to take off the day before, he let his upper body lean forward and used his feet to push himself completely out of the window. Time seemed to slow down, seconds turning into years as he felt his insides clench violently, bile rising up his throat-

 

The darkness burst out of his chest, his body vanishing in it's ashen cloud.

 

Credence never did touch the ground.

 

 

 

The morning fog was still coating the streets, letting Credence disappear under it's milky blanket. Hiding in an abandoned alleyway, he sat with his back against the damp wall, rocking his body back and forth in an attempt to calm himself but found that it was useless. His heart was racing, his limbs trembling and his skin was burning from all the tears.

Credence was _terrified_.

 

Somehow, from all the things that he had thought were still under his control, death was the one he had been the surest about. It had been a comfort for him that he always had the possibility to just end all the pain on his own accord, to just let his miserable life come to a somewhat dignified end, purely by his own choice. And now _this_.

Apparently, there was no aspect of his life left of which he had even a semblance of control about. Credence was still alive, still a danger, still suffering – All thanks to the monster lurking under his skin, the very thing he had wanted to escape from. No matter where he went, he would always be caged. Never free.

 

A sound caught his attention and he looked up, watching a shadow emerge from the thick fog, tall and lean. Just for a second, he found himself hoping-

The long coat swirled around long legs, clad in... black.

 

“Hello, Credence.”

 

His heart sank.

It wasn't difficult to recognize the pale, angular face and the dark eyes and he felt a pang of guilt hit him at the disappointment he felt.

Yes, he had wanted him to be the colorful stranger from the alleyway, but it was Mr. Graves who had offered to help him weeks ago. Credence should be grateful, happy even, that he had been remembered and sought out. Especially now, that he had fled the hell hole of his home, he needed help desperately.

 

“H-hello, Mr. Graves.” he mumbled, getting up with shaky legs and a bowed head. The older man stepped closer, right into his personal space, and gently took a hold of his bloodied hand. No matter how hard he tried not to, he felt himself leaning towards him, his fingers gripping the strong, warm hands tightly.  
“I heard your mother is now recruiting orphans to spread leaflets, hm?” he said softly, stroking the wounded skin of Credence's hands.

Confused at the choice of topic, he stuttered: “I- I don't know.”

The calloused thumb stilled.

“You don't know?” A finger touched his chin and lifted his head, so the older man could stare him in the eye, looming over him. “What are you doing out here anyways?”

 

He hesitated but then he blurted it out, not even trying to squelch neither his fear, nor the pride he felt at his words: “I ran away.”

Grasping Mr. Graves wrists, he found the courage to step closer himself, staring into those dark eyes pleadingly.

“H-help me, plea-”

 

His words died in his throat.

For a moment, it seemed like the older man was about to answer, but Credence's attention was now directed elsewhere as he saw a black, small figure approaching. Even though, he couldn't quite see it yet, he just _knew_ what it was.

“The cat,” he suddenly whispered, interrupting whatever Mr. Graves was saying to him.

The figure halted... and bolted.

 

In less than a heartbeat, he freed himself from the older man's grasp and _ran_.

 

It was stupid, _so_ _utterly stupid_ , to throw away his chance at getting help from Mr. Graves but he simply couldn't help himself; he needed to – Actually, he didn't know what he needed to do and he found that he didn't even care as he ignored the pain thrumming through his veins and tried not to lose sight of the weird cat running away from him.

This creature, whatever it was, was the key to the stranger. It was his last chance at mending whatever had been broken that moment when he showed him the leaflets.

As fast as a lightning, the weird cat disappeared into an alleyway but Credence would have none of it as he ran after it, even managing to jump over the sleeping form of a random beggar just in time.

 

A cry emitted from his lips as he saw the figure pause for just a second, giving him the chance to jump at it and catch it.

 

The cat made a gurgling noise as Credence buried his fingers into its fur, face reddened and sweaty while collapsing from exhaustion. His body stiffened and he felt cold all over from having abused his hurting muscles like that when he finally took a closer look at the struggling fluffy ball in his hands. He froze.

 

This _definitely_ wasn't a cat.

 

“ _Niffler_!” an achingly familiar voice shouted, but Credence's gaze was glued on the mole-like creature with the _beak_ and-

Steps halted, and this time it _was_ the rim of a blue coat that invaded his vision. Slowly, he forced himself to look up and now that he got that very last confirmation that he had found him, he felt relief flooding his body. Guessing from the stranger's state, – tousled hair, skin glowing in a red hue and coated with a thin layer of sweat – he had been on the pursue for quite some time now.

The shock on the man's face was evident, mixed with a touch of panic that he didn't fully understand.

 

“Er...” the stranger rasped, coughing nervously as his gaze flickered between Credence and the creature in his grasp. “You, er... you caught my... my pet.”

Pet. Somehow, he didn't believe him. This... _thing_ wasn't a pet. Cats and dogs were pets but _this_ was something else.

 

For all his previous shyness, his next words ended up being pretty blunt: “ _What is that_?”

 

The man paled considerably and he seemed to struggle for words, his eyes avoiding Credence's at all costs.

 

“A-,” Clearing his throat, he put down his suitcase. “A duck.”

 

It took him a moment to realize that the gurgling, _chuckling_ noise that echoed through the alleyway, was _his_. Credence couldn't even remember the last time, he had found something amusing, but _this_ – this was ridiculous. Admittedly, he didn't know a lot about animals, rarely ever saw one in person, especially no ducks, but he _did_ have some basic knowledge.

 

“A duck,” he repeated, clearly not buying it in the least. “With _fur_.”

 

Wincing, the stranger licked his lips and forced his mouth into a fake smile. Credence could see the panic in his eyes getting worse and worse. “It's a rare Norwegian breed with, _er..._ ” A slight pause. “...winter fur.”

 

Blinking, he said with a dry voice: “It's September.”

 

“Uh.” Another wince. “It's technically December in Norway?”

 

He couldn't argue with that.

 

Silence settled between them while Credence thoughtfully eyed the 'duck', wondering if Norway actually was so different from America that animals as weird as this one existed there and December started almost half a year earlier. He wondered if the stranger was from Norway, though, he had thought his accent to be British of sorts – but then again, he didn't know what a Norwegian accent might sound like.

Slowly, the man approached them and Credence couldn't help but flinch, holding on to the thing trying to wiggle his way out of his grasp.

  
“Thank you for catching him,” the stranger said, his voice soft and deep and calm, whereas there was still a hint of fear lying in those eyes. “Would you mind giving him back to me?”

 

Eyeing both the duck and the stranger suspiciously, he reminded himself of the reason why he was here in the first place. After all, he wanted to apologize for the leaflet-incident and he still didn't know the other man's name.

He didn't move a bit, but he let the man draw nearer and loosened his grasp the moment he reached for the animal.

Then, it happened all quite fast.

 

The thing was snatched from his hands and the stranger practically jumped to his suitcase, snapping it open and throwing the duck inside with more force than Credence had expected from a seemingly gentle person like him. With a soft double-'click' the suitcase was closed.

Staring at him with a gaping mouth, he tried to understand what just happened – The man, the gentle, sweet, colorful man, he had wanted to apologize to, just locked an animal in his suitcase. There were no holes that indicated that there was any way for the thing to be able to breath in there and just now Credence actually wondered _why_ it had been running from him in the first place.

 

Something in him snapped, when he connected the dots.

 

This man was trading with exotic animals. He was abusing them, maybe even killing them or why would he risk the thing being suffocated in his suitcase? It had tried so desperately to escape and Credence, ever the idiot, had aided in it's _murder_.

Was he selling the fur? Was he stuffing animals to make them into some sick kind of decor? Of course, he was. Of course, this seemingly angelic being was nothing but the devil in disguise, his colorful appearance a truce to make people _think_ that he was a good person.

 

Credence felt like throwing up when he saw the man smile and _still_ thought it looked beautiful.

  
“Thank you so much,” he said and he sounded sincere as he did so, bowing his head a little to show his gratitude. “I thought, I'd never catch him!”

 

The stranger barely managed to blink when Credence jumped onto his feet, ran him over and grabbed his suitcase. A startled shout followed him as he ran as fast as he could, tears prickling in his eyes, clutching the suitcase like his life depended on it. He held it pressed against his throbbing, heaving chest, his mind and heart racing. To be honest, he had no idea what he was doing, all he knew was that he couldn't let the man kill the duck or whatever it was. Never would he let anyone (or anything) be locked up ever again, especially not a creature as helpless and special as the one he held in his arms.

 

Not daring to look back, he tried to find a way to escape and get rid of the man, so he could let the poor thing out again before it suffocated in the surprisingly light suitcase. Recognizing the area, he almost tripped over his own feet as he fled into an alleyway which led to an abandoned house he could try to hide in – Before he reached the door, however, he was tackled from behind and he screamed as this horrible person tried to wrestle the suitcase out of his hands.

“ _Let go_!”, they shouted in unison and they tumbled to the floor, the stranger lying on top of him. Credence's wounded hands were smashed between the curbstone and their combined weight on his back, however, he willingly endured the pain if it meant that he could protect the creature.

 

A silent scream escaped his lips as the stranger managed to get a hold of the suitcase handle and started to tug at it almost violently, chafing the already bleeding skin of Credence's hands against the floor. Suddenly, he was turned around and he jumped at his chance to kick the other in the gut and away from him. He stumbled back, groaning, while Credence scrambled to his feet and tried to flee again, but the man threw himself against him, caging him between his body and the wall.

Four arms were wound around the suitcase, tugging relentlessly, two faces smeared with dirt and desperate tears.

 

“Please...!” the man begged with a strained, breathy voice. “Nothing in there is of interest to you!”

Credence shook his head violently, eyelids squeezed shut. It was a miracle that he was still strong enough to hold on to the suitcase as tight as he was doing at the moment, but he already felt his energy draining away.

He was panicking, sucking in air in short breaths, sobs escaping his throat and his vision turned blurrier by the second.

“No...!”, he hiccuped, forcing the other to his knees with him as he found his legs giving in. “I-I- I won't let you hurt it!”

 

Suddenly, there was a pause as the man froze.

 

“Hurt it?” he asked, breathing these two syllables with so much confusion that Credence almost stopped, too. “You think I-”

 

He struck the freckled face with all the force he could muster, making the man recoil and shout in pain as he instinctively reached for his nose. His body shuddered with the feeling of victory as he tried to stand up, however, his body was so weak that he tumbled to the floor before managing a simple step.

To his horror, the stranger had already recovered and Credence scrambled to the wall, using all his limbs to envelop the suitcase and protect it with his entire body.

 

He was weeping, rocking back and forth in an embryonic position, waiting for the attack that surely was to follow. But... nothing happened.

 

His eyes fluttered as he opened them and saw the man kneeling there, staring at Credence with something akin to... awe? Now it was his turn to feel incredibly confused, but he still flinched, holding the suitcase even tighter, when he was approached. Slowly, the stranger crawled forward, locking eyes with him, face relaxed despite the blood that was trickling down his nose.

“Credence,” the man whispered, blue eyes wide and movements cautious. “Listen, Credence. I am not hurting it.”

 

Gulping, he shook his head again and stuttered: “Y-you locked it i-in there, i-it can't b-breath a-and-”

“It's not suffocating,” the man said, his voice so, _so_ gentle and causing Credence's over-stressed body to shiver. “Let me show you...”

Credence curled up even more, facing away from the stranger before he could let himself be manipulated by him. There was a soft gasp and he hated himself for lifting his head just the tiniest bit to look back at him.

 

“You... You're bleeding,” he said, his eyes trained on his hip. Sure enough, Credence could feel the wet spot on his shirt where a deep cut from mother's whipping had opened during their fight. Then, he could see the man's eyes flicker to the red blood stains littered across the brown leather of his suitcase and to the battered hands clutching it. “You're heavily wounded,” the man whispered, reaching out for him as if he was afraid to be bitten if he came too close too fast. “And yet you...”

He trailed off, seemingly unsure what to say or do.

 

“I'm sorry,” he suddenly said, reaching into his coat. Credence stiffened immediately, his expression alarmed and he gasped when the stranger conjured up a _wand_ -

 

“ _Somnus_!”

 

The world went black.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 'Somnus' is latin for 'sleep' and since there is no sleeping spell mentioned by name in the books or anywhere else this will have to do!


End file.
